


Dragon Age Drabble Collection

by inkedinfantasy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedinfantasy/pseuds/inkedinfantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short fics set in the Dragon Age universe. Any new tags, characters, and ships will be added as necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull/F!Inquisitor and the phrase "It's never too late," as requested by my friend. Very loosely inspired by [this](http://momochanners.tumblr.com/post/89752286003/so-uh-about-that-blackwall-vs-iron-bull) piece of art. Just as a note: this chapter was written before the game came out, so please excuse any issues with plot or characterization details until I can get around to editing it.

“Surprised you’re still awake.”  


The Inquisitor looked up from the map she’d been halfheartedly examining for the last 20 minutes. Why? It’s only…” She paused, glancing at the clock. “Oh. Never mind.”  


Iron Bull chuckled softly.  


“Just where have you been, anyway?” she asked.  


“Promised Blackwall I’d buy him a pint.”  


The Inquisitor smirked. “He’s still sore about not getting to come along today?”  


The qunari grinned. “Yeah, a bit. He may have muttered something about playing favorites before he got drunk enough to stop caring.”  


The Inquisitor pressed her lips together but said nothing.  


“I suggested that maybe we could wrestle for a spot on the team next time,” he continued, letting out a small snort of laughter. “He took it surprisingly well.”  


“Hmm, I’d like to see that.”  


The words were out of the Inquisitor’s mouth before she could stop herself. She could feel herself turning bright red as Iron Bull let out a booming laugh.  


“Well, it’s never too late. Maybe we can see if he’d be up for it when he’s sober,” he suggested, grinning roguishly.  


The Inquisitor laughed nervously. “Somehow I doubt that.”  


“You never know.” He glanced at the maps she had been perusing when he walked in. “Why are you up so late reading maps anyway?”  


“Oh…well, uh, we’ll be leaving for an expedition to Nevarra soon. I was just, ah, trying to plot out our route,” she replied, staring down at the map to avoid meeting his gaze.  


“The expedition to Nevarra, of course,” he said, still grinning. “That would explain why you’re looking at maps of Antiva, then.”  


The Inquisitor felt herself turning bright red again as she examined the maps she had been allegedly studying closely for the first time and noticed they were indeed maps of Antiva. In fact, there were no maps of Nevarra present anywhere on the table.  


“I, uh…well…”  


Iron Bull chuckled softly again before turning in the direction of his chambers. “Good night, Inquisitor.”  


“Er…yes, good night.” She watched him leave for a moment before hastily packing up the maps scattered across the table and dashing off to her own chambers, still blushing bright red.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall/F!Inquisitor and the prompt "There's something I"ve been meaning to say." Fluff as requested by my friend. Turned a bit angsty, but still mostly fluff I promise. Just as a note: this chapter was written before the game came out, so please excuse any issues with plot or characterization details until I can get around to editing it.

She hears what happens before she sees it, preoccupied as she is with fending off the dragonling snapping at her throat. Driving her longsword into the creature’s neck, she turns to the source of the pained yell she had heard to see Blackwall pinned down by a drake, its teeth latching onto his shoulder.  


Her heart leaps into her throat and a cold wave of panic sweeps over her in an instant. She immediately turns her focus to the drake, ramming its head as it turns to snap at her and plunging her sword into its side. The drake roars in pain, turning its attention to her for the moment, allowing Blackwall to regain his footing as Solas covers him, deflecting a gout of flame with a wave of his staff. As Sera finishes off the drake with a neatly aimed arrow, the Inquisitor approaches Blackwall. He is breathing heavily, clutching his wounded shoulder, his sword lying on the ground at his feet.  


“How bad is it?” she asks, attempting to keep her voice steady.  


“He took a good bite out of me, but I’ll live,” he replies. “I appreciated the distraction.”  


“You know what I bet was distracting? The arrow lodged in its eye socket,” Sera chimes in, yanking the aforementioned arrow out of the drake’s corpse.  


Blackwall lets out a small, breathless laugh. “I would imagine. Thank you as well, Sera.” Sera responds with a small smirk, eyes flicking towards the Inquisitor knowingly, who quickly averts her gaze.  


As Sera moves further away, collecting stray arrows, the Inquisitor takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Blackwall, I...”  


She is suddenly very aware of his eyes on her. She pauses for a moment, snapping her mouth shut. “You should have Solas take a look at that,” she finishes, almost positive her face is burning red.  


He nods in assent, a small smile tugging at the edge of his mouth as Solas approaches him, hands already glowing a soft green with healing magic.

The Inquisitor spends the rest of the journey back to the stronghold cursing herself. Tongue-tied again. It was just a matter of spitting it out. It seems so simple, in theory. How many of her companions have already guessed at her feelings? Sera certainly knew, judging by her reaction back at the battle site. Solas had so far remained quiet on the subject, though this by no means meant that he hadn’t noticed anything.  


This latest incident had been no different that her past attempts to confess her attraction, and yet, she remains restless for the rest of the day, pacing through the halls, turning over thoughts in her head, eventually reaching the conclusion that it wasn’t her aborted confession that was needling at her, but rather his injury. She keeps tossing about what ifs in her head: what if he’d been hurt even more badly, what if we hadn’t intervened in time, what if he had been killed and I’d never even taken the chance to say anything...  


This last thought brings back the cold surge of dread that had overtaken her during the battle, which hardens into a sort of courageous resolve. No more dancing around the issue. One way or another, this will be resolved; at least she will have said what she wanted to say.  


Intending to head to the war room, she turns and marches resolutely back down the hall, only to nearly collide with Blackwall as she turns the corner.  


_Okay. Here’s your chance. This is like fate or some bullshit like that. Come on, you can do this._  


“Blackwall, hey, uh...” Her thoughts suddenly feel scrambled and the bulk of her focus is suddenly dedicated to forming a coherent sentence. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”  
“

Yes?” He tilts his head slightly, offering her his undivided attention.  


Taking a deep breath, she continues before she can lose her nerve, speaking haltingly but clearly, “In light of your injury today, I’ve just been thinking about...well, I guess you could say things that I may have been...harboring for a while that I would have never said if you had...well, if things had gone badly wrong.”  


She screws her eyes shut momentarily, gathering up her courage before opening them again and continuing, “Because I...care about you. A lot. And um, I just didn’t want that to go unsaid.” She lets out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “And, ah, that’s it.”  


She is just about to turn and flee when Blackwall catches her by her wrist and pulls her into a hug, chuckling warmly and oh if she wasn’t blushing before, she certainly is now. 

Hesitantly, she reaches up to hug him back.  


“You don’t need to be so quick to run off,” he murmurs, stroking her hair soothingly.  


Oh. Well. This is an unexpected development.  


“And to think it only took a drake attack for you to say it.”  


“I’d fight another one if it meant I wouldn’t have to do all this over again.”  


Blackwall laughs, kissing the top of her head softly. “Well, if I have my way, you won’t have to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Cole friendship as requested by my friend. You can probably safely assume a lot of these will be requested by her until I work up the nerve to ask strangers for prompts. Just as a note: this chapter was written before the game came out, so please excuse any issues with plot or characterization details until I can get around to editing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Cole's antics inspired by [this comic.](http://kelgrid.tumblr.com/post/89864676728/cole-wasnt-going-to-fall-for-your-bullshit-but)

“So if you’re a mage, does that mean you could turn a person into a toad?”  


Solas looked up from the notes he had been perusing to glance at the young man perched on one of the chairs against the far wall of his room. “Why do you ask?”  


Cole shrugged slightly. “I have—had a friend who was mage. Back in Val Royeaux. He threatened to turn some soldiers into toads once. They backed off, but I would have liked to see that.”  


Solas smiled slightly at the disappointment in Cole’s voice. “I would imagine it was more of an intimidation tactic than anything else.”  


Cole frowned. “Could it be done, though?”  


“I suppose I cannot say for sure. I have not personally had any experience turning people into toads. Shapeshifting is a recognized, if rare, branch of magic, however. If some mages can turn themselves into animals, it could be possible to do the same to others,” Solas replied.  


Cole nodded slowly, absorbing this new information. His reverie was broken, however, when he heard footsteps coming down the hall.  


Solas looked up once more as Iron Bull poked his head into the room. “You seen Cole today? I’d planned on taking him out for drinks tonight.”  


Solas’s eyes darted to the chair Cole had been sitting in moments before, which now appeared to be empty.  


“I have not seen him since the meeting the Inquisitor called this morning. He disappeared right after,” Solas lied smoothly.  


“Yeah, he’s good at that, isn’t he?” The qunari let out a snort of laughter. “Well, if you find him, let me know. Cassandra’s looking for him too and I doubt it’s just for a friendly chat.”  


His guess turned out to be quite accurate, as mere moments after he left Cassandra entered the room looking thunderous.  


“Where is that damn spirit?” she demanded.  


“I have not seen him since the Inquisitor’s meeting this morning,” Solas repeated. “Is this an urgent matter?”  


“There is _bread_ hidden all over my chambers,” Cassandra growled. “It attracted rodents. The mice have gotten into everything. This is his doing, I know it!”  


“That is...unfortunate. Perhaps you could talk to Sera about setting up traps.”  


“I wouldn’t need traps in the first place if it weren’t for him! He has to be around here somewhere...” Cassandra muttered as she stalked out of the room.  


Solas sighed, a soft, weary sound that turned into a slight chuckle.  


“Bread, Cole? Was this another one of Varric’s ideas?” he asked, seemingly to the empty room.  


“It was.” Cole had suddenly reappeared, sitting in the chair as if nothing had happened. “He thought it would be funny.”  


“Cassandra did not seem to find it very funny.”  


Cole shifted slightly in his chair, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks, by the way. For covering for me.”  


“You’re welcome. You are also changing the subject.”  


“It was Varric’s idea!”  


“That you decided to carry out.” He paused at this thought momentarily, then continued, “I do not expect my saying anything will deter you two, however. Might I at least suggest you try hiding food in Varric’s room? Perhaps that will make him think twice about devising such plans in the future.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My friend requested the Dragon Age Inquisition crew having breakfast. Featuring her Inquisitor, Merethe Trevelyan. Just as a note: this chapter was written before the game came out, so please excuse any issues with plot or characterization details until I can get around to editing it.

“Please tell me someone is cooking some kind of fresh meat for breakfast,” Merethe mumbled, yawning as she tottered sleepily into the stronghold’s dining hall. “If I have to eat leftover stew again I think I’ll go mad.”  


Dorian, who appeared to be slicing a large piece of meat, much to her delight, looked up as she entered. “Not to worry, Inquisitor, there will be plenty to go around.”  


“There damn well better be.” Sera was already seated at one of the tables, hair sticking out in every direction, wearing only a loose, slightly dirty tunic and cradling a cup of tea in her hands. “I’m starving.”  


Taking a seat across from Sera, Merethe gazed idly around the room to see who else is already up at this hour. To her right, Solas sat at a table by himself, already eating some kind of weird fruit she is unable to identify. Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen sat together at the table to her left, Cassandra quietly sipping her tea, Cullen looking as if he were dozing off, propping his head up with his hand, and Leliana reading what looked like a letter, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.  


Merethe looked up as the kitchen’s back door creaked open. Josephine emerged carrying a basket of bread under one arm and her own cup of tea in her other hand. She set the basket of bread down next to Dorian, who was now cooking the meat he had been cutting earlier. “Maker, what I wouldn’t give for some strong Antivan coffee right now. Tea just isn’t going to cut it.”  


“Sorry to say, but I think we have more important things to spend our money on than importing coffee,” Merethe replied. “Lovely as the thought might be,” she added after a moment of sluggish thought.  


Josephine sighed with a tired smile. “Tea will just have to do, then, I suppose.” Setting down her cup, she began rifling through the bread basket she had set down. “Now, who wants toast?”  


Four hands went up—Sera’s, Cassandra’s, Cullen’s, and Merethe’s own. Josephine frowned at the number. “Aren’t the others up yet? Never mind, I’ll make extra.”  


As if summoned by her question, Iron Bull and Blackwall entered the hall at that moment.  


“Whose turn is it cooking today? It’s not Sera, is it?” Iron Bull asked, glancing across the dining hall. He chuckled as Dorian gave him a short salute from the kitchen. “Thank goodness. I get to live another day, then.”  


“Oh, piss off,” Sera grumbled as he took a seat to her left. “Been eating my own cooking for years and it hasn’t killed me yet.”  


“ _Yet._ ”  


“Shut up.”  


Blackwall sat down across from Iron Bull as Vivienne glided into the dining hall, already fully and impeccably dressed. Everyone other than Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine looked at least somewhat sleep-rumpled, and received a small disapproving frown from Vivienne as she seated herself gracefully at Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra’s table.  


Varric was the last to arrive a few minutes later just as Dorian announced that the meat was ready and Josephine had finished passing out toast. Cole had appeared seemingly out of nowhere at Solas’s table shortly after Vivienne arrived, and was now quietly eating a piece of toast and some of Solas’s fruit.  


Everyone besides Solas, Cole, and Josephine ended up divvying up the meat, some managing to secure noticeably larger portions than others, with Sera claiming the largest one of all.  


Josephine took a seat by Leliana, tea and toast in hand, while Dorian joined Solas and Cole.  


Glancing around the dining hall, Merethe sighed, a small, content sound.  


In times like these, you learn to appreciate the quiet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull/F!Inquisitor fluff. Could be considered a sequel to the previous Bull/Inquisitor snippet from Chapter 1 of this collection, but it works fine as a stand-alone too. One thing to note, I suppose, is that this chapter features my friend's Inquisitor Merethe Trevelyan rather than the generic female Inquisitor from the first drabble. Just as a note: this chapter was written before the game came out, so please excuse any issues with plot or characterization details until I can get around to editing it.

“You know what I really love about Nevarra?” Sera piped up. “The absolutely splendid weather.”

Merethe and her companions were currently slogging through a torrential downpour in the middle of some remote Nevarran forest. The path had long since been reduced to a river of sticky mud that had thoroughly coated all of them from the knees down.

“Look on the bright side, Sera,” Dorian replied. “As long as we can still feel mud flowing into our boots we know we’re still on the path.”

Iron Bull chuckled as Merethe scowled. “Alright, alright, I can take a hint. We’ll set up camp for the night next time we find shelter.” 

  


After another half hour or so of hiking through the storm, they found a moderately sized grove of densely grown trees near several large rocks that would provide adequate shelter for the night. Everyone was quick to dash to shelter and begin unpacking their supplies.

“Let’s hope our things are in a better state than we are,” Merethe thought aloud. She, Bull, Dorian, and Sera had all been thoroughly soaked by now.

“Hmm…well it looks like we’ll be having a soggy breakfast tomorrow,” Dorian remarked, grimacing at the food in his pack. “The maps seem to be dry, though.”

“I packed towels for us. Well, Cass packed towels for us,” Sera amended as she rifled through her pack. “The important thing is we’ve got them and they’re dry.”

Bull looked up at this. “Really? Hand ‘em over.”

Sera balled up one of the towels and tossed it in his direction. He caught it easily and began drying off. Merethe’s eyes wandered over to him and she could feel her face start to heat up.

“Heads up Inquisitor!"

Merethe was startled out of her reverie by one of Sera’s towels smacking her squarely in the face. Snatching the towel off of her head, she glared at Sera, whose smirk suggested the towel’s trajectory was no accident.

Merethe managed to dry herself off adequately and began rummaging through her pack for a dry set of clothes.

“ _Shit._ ” She had placed her clothes at the very top of the pack, making them the first items to get soaked when the rain had started. She glanced over at Sera, who had already finished changing. “Sera, do you have any spare clothes?”

“Only other set I’ve got are my soaked ones.”

“You packed two sets of clothes for a three-week expedition?”

“So?”

“So…” Merethe paused for a moment, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I’ve got some spare clothes if you need them, Mere,” Bull called from the other side of camp.

“Oh…um,” She had not been expecting that. “That’s….uh…thank you, but if Dorian has a spare set, those might be a better fit?”

“Mmm, but Bull’s idea would be much funnier. Sorry, Inquisitor.” Dorian said.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No, not really.”

Bull laughed and tossed her a very large balled-up piece of clothing. “All that was dry were the shirts, but I have a feeling that’s all you’re gonna need.”

He turned out to be right, as the shirt alone went down past her knees. Blushing again, she fussed with the sleeves as she pretended not to hear the poorly stifled giggles coming from her companions.

“It suits you.” Bull was already reclining on his bedroll, not even attempting to hide his grin as he appraised her new outfit.

“So glad you approve,” she murmured, returning to her pack to look for her own bedroll. She ended up finding it underneath her sodden clothes, slightly dryer but still uncomfortably damp.

“Damn it,” she growled.

“What is it now?”

“I have no sense for packing, apparently. My bedroll’s wet too.”

Bull thought for a moment before grinning again, a slight smirk in it this time. “Come here.”

“I…what?”

“Come here,” he repeated, motioning her forward.

Merethe glanced nervously around the campsite. Sera was sprawled on her bedroll, already out like a light and snoring. Dorian was lying down a ways away with his back to her, his breathing steady.

She strode forward cautiously. Bull watched her intently as she approached, still grinning.

She came to a stop right in front of him, taking a moment to attempt to swallow her nervousness before asking brusquely, “Alright, now what was it you…”

Her question was cut off abruptly as Bull grabbed her arm and pulled her down on top of him. Merethe froze instantly, the shock keeping her perfectly still as Bull shifted slightly beneath her to get more comfortable, wrapping an arm around her.

After a long moment, she found her voice again, clearing her throat before croaking, “Um…Bull?”

“You do need a bed for the night, don’t you?” He smirked up at her. “Sleep tight, Mere.”

“Right. Ok then.” Slowly, she began to relax, drifting comfortably into sleep.

  


Merethe woke up to the sound of snoring, her hair plastered to her face and a heavy arm still slung over her waist. Blinking blearily, she raised her head slightly, noting that Bull was still fast asleep. Looking out across the campsite, she suddenly noticed that Sera was sitting beside a small campfire, staring at her and wearing a huge smug grin.

Suddenly wide awake, she barrel rolled off of Bull’s chest, faceplanting onto the ground. Quickly standing, she crossed the campsite to where she had left her clothes out to dry the night before, blushing furiously as she attempted to ignore Sera waggling her eyebrows at her, still grinning jubilantly.

By the time she had redressed, Bull was awake, yawning and stretching.

“Here’s your shirt back,” she said, tossing it at him perhaps a little harder than she meant to. Her throw went slightly wide, however, and the shirt ended up catching on one of his horns.

He grinned, making no move to remove it. “Sleep well, Mere?”

The comment was met with a loud “Woo!” from Sera as Merethe blushed again.

It was at this moment that Dorian appeared, carrying an armful of wood. Taking in the sight of Bull and Sera grinning as a very red-faced Merethe busied herself with unpacking the food, shirt still hanging off Bull’s horn, he frowned slightly.

“Have I missed something?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So my friend was talking about Bull and demons the other day and it made me think things. I swear, one day I will write things about my own Inquisitor. Today does not happen to be that day, so this chapter is once again featuring my friend's Inquisitor Merethe Trevelyan. Just as a note: this chapter was written before the game came out, so please excuse any issues with plot or characterization details until I can get around to editing it.

Merethe’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword as the demons came pouring out of the rift in the Fade. This was the largest rift they had encountered yet, and closing it seemed as though it would prove to be trouble.

Charging towards the nearest enemy, she ducked nimbly out of the way as one of Sera’s arrows shot past her, neatly embedding itself into a rage demon’s chest. She could hear the crackle of lightning from Dorian’s staff off to her left, quickly followed by a cacophony of unearthly screeching. Running one of the creatures through with her sword, she swiveled in place to see if she could spot Bull.

Rather uncharacteristically, he was bringing up the rear, as if he had momentarily frozen in place when they had come across the rift. He was keeping up his usual approach to battle, hacking and slashing vigorously, but with none of his usual levity. There was a tension to his action that did not seem like him at all.

Her train of thought was promptly halted by the approach of another demon. With a jab and a quick slice, she dispatched it, breaking into a sprint as she moved towards the rift.

The mark on her hand began to glow virulently, throbbing with otherworldly energy as she got closer. The rift crackling with a sickly green light above her, she thrust her hand out towards it, the glowing and crackling intensifying for a moment as the tear began to mend itself. It closed with an ominous hiss, and Merethe lowered her hand.

The brief peace was broken when an unchecked demon came slamming into her from the right, pinning her down and shrieking wildly. Her sword flew out of her hand, landing out of reach. Time seemed to slow down as she watched its needle-sharp teeth bared, descending towards her…

Suddenly she was free, the demon knocked back by a concentrated concussive force. Merethe rolled onto her stomach only to see Dorian running her way, already aiming another spell at the demon now crouching a few yards away. As the last of the demons was consumed by a massive fireball, her companions began to regroup, Bull approaching her at a run.

“Inquisitor…Merethe, are you alright?” he croaked as he practically yanked her to her feet.

“Yes, I’m fine but are you…” The rest of her sentence was lost as he pulled her close, hugging her tight.

Even Sera seemed lost for words. Merethe wrapped her arms around him, a cold pit of uneasiness settling in her stomach.

She’d never seen him afraid before.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort of "alternate ending" to Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts for the Inquisitor and Bull, again using my friend's lovely Inquisitor Merethe Trevelyan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I'm updating this collection for the first time in a million years. Anyway, I'm hoping to have not quite such a large gap in updates in the future. I'm busy with college at the moment, but hopefully there will be no more year or more hiatuses. I still have a few things I could update with that just need finishing or editing, so hopefully I will have some more things to add in the near future.

_I give myself another 10 minutes before I fall asleep on my feet. 20 minutes tops._

Even with their mission accomplished, there was still no end in sight to the lip service Merethe was required to pay to the Orlesian nobility. The Winter Palace was filled with people whom Josephine earnestly encouraged her to ply for favors to the Inquisition, so even as their task ended and things began to settle back down, she was whisked away by Josephine to change out of the ambassadorial uniform she’d been wearing into a ballgown more suitable for mingling with the upper crust of Orlesian society.

The whole experience evoked flashbacks of countless family functions she’d attended, willingly or no, though the gossiping and fretting crowds were mostly strangers, or those she knew only by reputation rather than members of her extended family. Josephine proved herself unable to manage a moment’s rest yet again, flitting around dropping a few friendly words to various dignitaries, checking in with Leliana and Cullen, making sure Merethe looked presentable, and somehow, managing to change into a dress of her own.

As soon as she’d received Josephine’s seal of approval, she’d promptly been whisked back out onto the dance floor, directed in whispers from Josephine and Leliana to those whose support would most benefit the Inquisition. Countless introductions, several dances, and one agonizing conversation about boar hunting carried out in extensive detail by a stocky, smug-looking man later, she was at the end of her rope.

Mercifully, the man finally appeared to spot another acquaintance in the crowd and took his leave. Merethe turned on her heel and made a beeline for the stairs up to the grand balcony before her advisors could seek her out again.

Stepping out into the cool night air, she took a deep breath. She’d forgotten how exhausting all this pandering could be. 

“Was wondering when you’d show up out here.”

Merethe looked up. Bull had been waiting out on the balcony, grinning slightly as he took in her somewhat drained appearance. “You end a goddamn civil war in one night and they still don’t give you room to breathe.”

She strode forward to stand next to him, leaning against the balcony railing. “Yeah. I forgot how much I missed the backstabbing and tiptoeing around everything you mean to say.”

He chuckled. “I think you’ve earned a break, _kadan_.”

She turned, the small of her back pressing into the rail of the balcony as he leaned down to kiss her.

“It won’t be long before Josephine tracks me down again,” she murmured as he kissed his way down her neck.

“Mmmm, but you look _really_ good in that dress, Mere.” She shivered at the low growl of his voice in her ear. “We don’t have to stick around. I think I remember there being guest quarters just off the main hall…”

“Lead the way.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the same theme as the last, an alternate ending of sorts to the ball, this time featuring Solavellan. Also, this is the first chapter where I'm actually using one of my own Inquisitors, Valene Lavellan.

One would think that foiling an assassination attempt and ending a civil war would be enough to earn a person a bit of a reprieve.  
Not quite.

Before the words “ _ok, the empress is safe, can we leave now_ ” could even leave her mouth, Val was being tugged aside by Josephine, who told her, in quick succession, that she had to change into this dress, that she would need to make at least some attempt to mingle with the nobility, and that, no, they wouldn’t be leaving for a while as there was still important business to be done that almost certainly involved diplomatic relations with a host of people she’d never heard of nor cared about.

The dress? Not a huge problem. It was quite nice, after all. Mingling with the nobility? Less nice. The shoes Leliana had handed her and told her she simply _must_ wear? Completely ridiculous and thoroughly impractical. The excuse that the Dalish tended to stick to boots if they wore shoes at all did not earn her sympathy from the nobles whose toes she’d repeatedly trodden on while attempting to dance. Leliana eventually decided to have Val stick to simply talking to their potential allies to avoid causing an incident, a request with which she was all too happy to comply.

The whole thing felt like a farce, but she did her best to follow the promptings from Josephine and Leliana, retreating from the crowd only when she felt fairly certain she would be unable to continue being on her best behavior.

The ballroom was bright and loud and _stifling_. How could people bear being cooped up inside there for so long?

Stepping out onto the balcony, away from the eyes of the court, Val could feel herself begin to relax immediately. Rolling her shoulders and stepping out of her shoes, she leaned against the railing of the balcony, looking out over the dark and empty courtyard.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here.”

She turned slightly to see Solas approaching. “I found the court to be a bit much for my taste.”

“It is rare that you find a court that isn’t a bit much.”

“Well, I think my exposure tonight has been enough for a lifetime.” Val glanced back at the door leading from the balcony to the ballroom. “Provided Josephine doesn’t see fit to drag me back into the fray.”

Solas glanced off to the side of the balcony, towards the tall hedges that marked the entrance to another part of the grounds. “I hear the palace’s gardens are lovely. And quite extensive.”

Val straightened up, smiling faintly. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, I’m in. Anything to get out of politely begging for more favors.” She frowned slightly. “Though if we head back through the ballroom Josephine will get a hold of me for sure.”

“The ballroom is not the only way out,” Solas said, indicating the trellis mounted on the wall just to the right of the balcony with a slight grin.

“Oh, brilliant.” They approached the trellis and began the delicate task of climbing off the balcony and downwards. Solas was climbing down and Val was kneeling half-crouched on the railing of the balcony when the door to the ballroom opened to reveal Cassandra. She opened her mouth to speak but promptly found herself at a loss for words when she locked eyes with Val. They stared at each other for a long moment, stretching out into silence before Cassandra offered her the faintest knowing smile and a small nod, turning back into the ballroom and closing the door behind her.

Val let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, quickly swinging over the balcony railing and climbing down the trellis. She left the shoes behind.

“Was that Josephine seeking you out?” Solas asked as she reached the ground.

“No. Cassandra. She seems to have decided to take pity, though,” Val replied.

“Well then,” he said, offering his arm, “Now that it has been officially sanctioned, there is little danger of forsaking your duty.”

Val laughed, linking her arm with his. “I’d gladly _forsake_ the rest of the party for the far more pleasant company.”

“Always the flatterer, _vhenan_.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small idea I had with for another one of my Inquisitors, Levi Lavellan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a special case, featuring my Inquisitor Valene Lavellan from the last chapter. Levi's her brother, and in this iteration of the universe he's a companion with the Inquisition. I hope to write some stuff with Levi as an Inquisitor in his own right in the future as well!

Dorian woke to the sound of rustling outside his tent.

Grumbling to himself, he rolled over to see a shape silhouetted through the canvas by the dying light of the campfire. Impossible to tell who it was, for the moment.

He rubbed a hand against his eye. He couldn’t have been asleep very long. It was still dark out, most likely past the time anyone at the camp besides whoever was on watch would normally be awake. 

As a few more minutes of fruitlessly trying to drift back to sleep passed, another figure joined the first at the fire. The Inquisition was destined for a sleepless night, it would seem.

“Hey. Couldn’t sleep?”

It was the Inquisitor’s voice. He heard a brief shuffling as she sat next to the figure already seated by the fire, who shifted over slightly to make room.

“Yeah. It is…it’s been a rough night.”

The other voice was Levi’s. He sounded dead tired.

“Nightmares again?” Val’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

The two fell silent, the only sound for a long moment a few stray pops from the fire.

“Hey,” Val said, sounding as if an idea was occurring to her. “What do we always say about nightmares?”

Levi let out a quiet huff, amused. “They’re not real.”

“And what’s real?”

“Right now is real. Here is real” Levi was silent for a moment, then continued without prompting. “Right now…I can smell the fire. I hear crickets, lots of them. That stream nearby. Cassandra snoring.” They both laughed at that.

Dorian smirked despite himself. He could hear it as well, faintly across the campsite.

“I feel…” Levi paused, yawning. “Tired. Very tired. And better now. Thanks.”

“Course. I’ve been having my share of bad dreams.”

The conversation tapered off into comfortable silence, and Dorian eventually drifted back to sleep.

 

 

They had several more days out in the wilderness before they made their way back to Skyhold. For Dorian, their return could not come soon enough.

A few days after he overheard the late night conversation, he found himself sleepless once more. Try as he might, he could not seem to settle down.

With a growl and a low curse hissed between his teeth, he eventually gave up. Sitting up, he pulled on his boots. If he must be awake, he might as well go give whoever was on watch a break.

Pushing aside the flap of his tent, he immediately noticed the fire. It hadn’t been put out; rather, it had burned itself down to embers, a few tiny flames licking a stray twig or two still intact.

Levi was sitting by the dying fire, jabbing idly at a few of the embers with a stick. He looked up as Dorian exited his tent. “Oh. Hey.”

Dorian could hear the tension in his voice, noting the hard set of his jaw and the mechanical stiffness of his motions tending the fire. Time for a quick revision of his plans.

Striding over slowly, he sat beside Levi, maintaining a careful distance. “I’m not the only one dealing with a sleepless night, I see.”

“Yeah.” Levi jabbed a little harder at the embers, not meeting his eyes. “It’s been…it hasn’t been easy, lately.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Levi was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of stuff, really. I’ve been worrying about my clan. Leaving them behind. I’m worried about Val, of course. She’s got…well, she’s got a lot of stuff going on, obviously.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m scared. Scared of the things we’ve done, the things we’ve seen. Everything Val told me about what she saw at Redcliffe, and escaping Haven, now I can’t stop thinking about it and I _see_ it every night and it won’t stop…”

Levi’s voice was becoming increasingly strained, his posture hunched and rigid.

Dorian was struck by the clear thought that he needed to do _something._ He leaned over slightly, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, his mind racing frantically to come up with something comforting to say. “I know the Inquisition has been dealing with some…serious things.” He winced at his own words. “But we got past that all right, didn’t we? It’s difficult to deal with, but it’s over now and we’re all right.” The conversation from the previous night suddenly popped into his head. “Just think about it for a moment. What do you always say about nightmares?”

“They’re not real.” Levi’s response was prompt, automatic. He laughed, a small, watery sound, and turned to face Dorian, a tentative smile on his face. “How do you know about that? Did Val tell you?”

“No. But I, ah, heard you talking the other night.”

“Oh.” The smile had not left Levi’s face. He let out a shaky breath. Dorian could still feel his heart pounding under his hand. “It’s something our dad used to tell us when we were kids and we had bad dreams. To focus on what’s real.” He let out another shuddering breath, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit.

For several moments, he simply sat, drawing in long, slow breaths. Dorian sat beside him in silence, hand still resting on his shoulder, unsure of whether he should remove it or not.

After one particularly long exhale, Levi spoke again. “Right now…that’s what’s real. Right now we’re alive. We’re ok.” He closed his eyes. “We’re in camp, everybody’s asleep. We’re safe, and it’s only a few hours til morning.” He opened his eyes and turned his gaze back to Dorian, that small smile returning to his face. “You’re here,” he said, and Dorian was reasonably certain that Levi had inched closer to him, ever so slightly. Dorian felt his stomach flip-flop.

“I…yes,” was all Dorian managed to get out. He took a deep breath, suddenly grateful that it was growing ever darker as the fire burned lower and lower. “Are you feeling any better?”

This time Levi slid much closer, and Dorian’s hand migrated from Levi’s shoulder to looped around his waist. “Yeah,” Levi said. “A lot better.”

Dorian’s heart was the one hammering now. “Good,” he said, shifting slightly but making no move to get up. “That’s good.”

They stayed like that until the sun began to rise over the horizon. Dorian was fairly certain that Levi had drifted off at some point, having to gently nudge him awake so they could stretch the stiffness from their limbs and return to their own tents before everyone else woke up.

He couldn’t find it in himself to mind, though. They could both use the rest.


End file.
